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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23747452">Bearer of Cups, Shiner of Shoes</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/raphae11e/pseuds/raphae11e'>raphae11e</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Scarface (1932)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>(kinda but not as Much as usual lmao), Boot Worship, Clothed Sex, Dom/sub Undertones, Gangsters, M/M, Power Dynamics, Power Play, Riding, Rough Sex, Rutting, Service Kink, Submission</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 15:48:31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,228</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23747452</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/raphae11e/pseuds/raphae11e</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony doesn't quite see the use of his friend's most recent purchase. No harm done-- Guino is perfectly willing to convince him.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Antonio "Tony" Camonte/Guino Rinaldo</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Bearer of Cups, Shiner of Shoes</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I guess quarantine has broken my brain cause here I am posting in this tag again, all by my lonesome. Hope people are down for more gayness and gangsters, now with even MORE power dynamics and displays of subservience. Just the way I like it, babey. &gt;:^D</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“What the hell’d you buy a thing like that for, anyway?”</p><p>Guino looked up from where he was standing over one of his fancy end tables. “Huh?”</p><p>Sprawled out across the loveseat to his right, Tony blew a smoke ring into the air, cigarette held deftly between middle and forefinger. Then he gestured to the ensemble spread out before them. “It’s for shoe shinin’, ain’t it?”</p><p>Guino nodded. He was busy sorting through everything, putting it in its rightful place. All the pieces-- polish, brushes, cloth-- fit perfectly into a single box. It was even lettered with gold leaf, and lined in velvet the same color and sheen as new blood. “I think it’s a useful setup, is all,” he replied at length. </p><p>Tony made an <em> aha </em>noise, as if that had somehow settled the matter. Teasingly, he asked, “An’ d’you got enough time on your hands to be shinin’ your own shoes?”</p><p>They both knew the answer to <em> that </em> question already. <em> “C’mon,” </em> Guino drawled, half-smiling, even as he felt the heat rise to his cheeks, “a guy’s allowed to buy himself nice things, right?” It hadn’t been a necessary purchase by any means, but that was something Tony could understand sure as anybody, he figured. Hence the tailored suits and the rings and tie pins Poppy had once called effeminate.</p><p>“Sure, sure.” Tony held up his hands in surrender, arms draped casually over the back of the couch. “I get that. But we got boys out on the street corner who can do the job for you, cheap.” His smile widened. “They clean the blood off pretty good, too.”</p><p>Guino snorted. “Uh huh. Yeah, they work just fine, but--” He fumbled for a second, trying to find a way to explain that made sense. </p><p>Maybe he should just… demonstrate?</p><p>“Y’know, it isn’t just for me to sit here shining shoes by myself.” Tony blinked at him, lost, so Guino smiled and clarified: “I could shine yours.”</p><p>At first, Tony’s reaction was to laugh. It wasn’t hard to see why; the two of them were at the top of the food chain, or near to it anyhow. Powerful people didn’t make a point of kneeling for others. No one in this business would dare show weakness like that. But then that thought must’ve gotten into Tony’s head somehow-- Guino, on his knees, in front of him-- and that shut him up quick. Not in the stunned silence kind of way, but in the easy, smug sort of quiet that came when someone realized they were being sweet-talked.</p><p>Making offers like that came easy to Guino. At least, when he was making them to Tony. So he waited, patient, expectant, as his friend sat there with the air of someone perusing the menu at a fancy restaurant. </p><p>“Well,” Tony said finally. Slowly, too, as if this was at all a hard decision-- and Guino could tell it wasn’t, could tell he was fighting to keep from looking too eager. He reached over to snuff out his cigarette in the nearby ashtray. Then he turned back, posture casual but eyes alight. “Well,” he said again, “why not?”</p><p>It took Guino only a quick moment to gather up the supplies he needed and cross the foot or so of space between them. He sank to his knees on the plush carpet, laying everything out carefully, even as he felt eyes boring into him from above. </p><p>Already his heart was in his throat. Jesus, was he dizzy for this man-- something told him he ought to be more embarrassed by that than he was. </p><p>“Right side first,” he said as he rolled up his sleeves. Carefully, calmly, without any shake to it.</p><p>Guino watched from waist level as one leg splayed wider, the other coming forward and up until the heel of Tony’s shoe came to rest in his open palm. All he could hear was the <em> shck, shck </em>sound of another cigarette being lit. </p><p>He couldn’t bring himself to make small talk, so he didn’t bother. He let the silence stretch on, comfortable but with something anxious simmering beneath, as he selected one of the brushes. He made quick work of cleaning off the dust and dirt of the Chicago streets. Luckily they hadn’t had a job that day, so both he and Tony were blissfully clean of any blood, dried or otherwise. Next, he opened the can of polish. Dabbing it with a cloth, he focused on buffing the dark leather in methodical circles. </p><p>It wasn’t the most efficient job he’d ever done. He probably could’ve used a box like the professionals, something to brace against that wasn’t his hand or thigh, but he didn’t concern himself too much with the gritty details. The weight and pressure of it was… soothing, sort of. As was the sight of the wingtip slowly building up a dull sheen. </p><p>Once it was sufficiently polished and at least halfway dry, he wiped off the excess wax with a clean rag. And then--</p><p>“Ah, shit,” he muttered. “I forgot.”</p><p>“Hm?”</p><p>“Water. For the shine.”</p><p>Tony hummed, understanding. But when Guino moved to stand, he inhaled sharply as he was met with the harsh bite of a heel into his thigh. He glanced up, questioning, to see his friend observing him intently. The eyes of a calculating hunter. </p><p>“Spit on ‘em.”</p><p>Guino wrinkled his nose. “Cut it out.”</p><p>“I’m serious!” Totally unapologetic, Tony flashed him a brilliant, lopsided grin. “They call it spit-shine for a reason, don’t they?” But then he sobered up, half hiding his face behind his palm as he took a drag of smoke. When he spoke again, it was muffled, gaze just as intense as before. “Go on,” he said. “I don’t mind.”</p><p>As crazy as it seemed, Guino had made a living out of doing crazy things at Tony’s request. And this was far from the craziest. So he sighed, and shook his head, feeling his face and neck start to burn as he bent forward. One of his hands held a clean, dry rag. The other went to support Tony’s ankle, fingers resting where his slacks had hiked up just enough to show the dark sock beneath.</p><p>Still, Guino hesitated, until… he took a deep breath and just… bit the bullet.</p><p>It turned out, spit <em> did </em>do the job pretty handily. With a few quick motions of his wrist, he was able to mix it with a bit of remaining polish and spread it over the shoe. Then he would flip the cloth to a dry section and hurriedly wipe everything clean. After several repetitions-- each bringing their own wave of uncomfortable heat in his gut-- the result was a shine bright enough that he could nearly see his reflection. </p><p>When he looked up next, Tony’s stare was molten.</p><p>Throat dry, lips wet, all Guino managed to say was, “Now the other.” </p><p>The process seemed to go faster this time around. Their shared silence magnified everything: the heat of the legs bracketing him in on either side, the dry sound of fabric on fabric as Tony shifted minutely in his grasp, the almost sweet aroma of smoke that continued to fill his flat. Guino spent all of his time trying to focus on each step, instead of how thorny his insides felt-- especially when he bent forward again, lips parted, cloth at the ready.</p><p>Just then, a sudden, insistent pressure between his legs made him gasp. </p><p>He didn’t dare look. Every part of him was frozen, and he knew that seeing the finely embroidered tip of that other shoe pressed into soft, clothed flesh would send him up in flames. </p><p>“Keep goin’. You’re almost done.”</p><p>Guino swallowed hard. The hand currently gripping Tony’s left ankle was trembling. Still, he obeyed.</p><p>All things considered, he made sure to be thorough, just as he had before. And if his breathing hitched every time Tony pressed down harder, or let up… if his hips rocked ever so slightly against that expensive shoe… well, who could blame him? By the time he finished, his skin felt feverish to the touch, and he had to flex his fingers to rid them of their persistent ache. </p><p><em> At the very least, </em> he thought, <em> that shine is damn near perfect. </em>A sentiment which both of them clearly agreed on, because he got a low whistle for all his troubles.</p><p>“Very good,” Tony purred. “Clean as a whistle. You oughta do this more often.”</p><p>Again, Guino swallowed. It was hard to force his mouth to work the way he wanted it to. “Yeah,” he agreed, voice hoarse, “maybe I oughta.”</p><p>That earned him a pleased noise that sent a hot shiver down his spine. Guino lifted his head to see Tony nursing the dying embers of his smoke, gaze averted, the seam of his slacks tented in obvious, unabashed interest.</p><p>As if he could sense Guino’s red-hot look, Tony’s eyes cut his way again. Quick and agonizing as a bullet to the lung.</p><p>“You want a reward?” he growled. He didn’t bother waiting for a coherent answer. “Then strip.”</p><p>That, Guino could manage-- well, halfway, at least. He ignored his shoes and socks in favor of wrestling off his slacks and underthings first, hardly pausing to feel ashamed, and was in the middle of unbuttoning his shirt when he was stopped. “C’mere,” Tony told him, “c’mere,” sounding as hungry as Guino felt. He was all too eager to oblige.</p><p>Somewhere during the flurried removal of clothes, Tony had found the time to kill his second cigarette and get a hand into the end table drawer. His free hand went immediately around Guino’s waist, pulling them flush against one another, dodging a kiss in favor of mouthing at his throat instead. On instinct, Guino braced himself-- just in time for Tony to bite down. All his breath wheezed out of him at once, hips jumping at the pain of it. Some dark part of him hoped Tony had drawn blood.</p><p>“You make me so hot,” his friend snarled, lips forming the words against an already blooming bruise, <em> “So </em> hot, babe, you know that?”</p><p>Guino laughed, breathless. “Glad to h-hear it.”</p><p>“Yeah.” Tony held him tight in a one-armed hug, bicep and forearm corded with enough muscle to make his head swim. “Never get tired of sayin’ it.” As Guino was gasping for breath, another hand reached down to slide wet fingers-- ahh, Tony had found the lube then, good-- between his cheeks. They brushed only briefly over his tightly clenched hole before they danced away again. Instead, they grabbed a handful of his ass and squeezed. </p><p>Nowadays, it seemed like he could never get enough air when he was around Tony, whether it was because of violence or sex or both. Not that you’d catch him complaining. In their line of work, being a sucker for pain and other vices was practically a requirement.</p><p>That was probably why he wasn’t too fazed by any of the more daring requests sent his way. Including several minutes later, when he was leaning back with his hands braced on his friend’s knees, watching with bated breath as Tony got himself off. The slick sound of lube over skin made his mouth water. It was hard to look away from the sight of that cock disappearing into Tony’s tight-fisted grip, precome leaking over his knuckles, until a rough voice said, “Guino.”</p><p>He looked up through his eyelashes to see Tony doing the same, head tilted back against the couch cushions to expose the vulnerable expanse of his throat. “Sweetheart,” Tony moaned, and God if that didn’t make his heart jump in his chest, “I don’ need to get you ready, do I? Can take me just fine like this, can’t you?”</p><p>Guino’s own cock jumped against his thigh. “Yeah,” he said, too quick, too ragged, “yeah, Tony, lemme try.”</p><p>Of course, he couldn’t just <em> try. </em>He was either going to, or he wasn’t, and he was determined not to disappoint. He clambered forward on lust-wobbly limbs to brace himself with a hand on each of Tony’s shoulders. A palm came up to cradle the stretch of skin between his ass and upper thigh, supporting some of his weight, the rest of it balanced on his knees.</p><p>The two of them stayed there together, right on the edge, until Guino forced himself to take a calming breath-- Tony watching him all the while-- and sank down.</p><p>Slow and careful as he was, it still <em> burned. </em>Not as bad as water filling your lungs, or a knife burying itself in your gut, but it was far from pleasant. Guino gritted his teeth even as he forced the rest of his body to stay relaxed. Tensing up would only make it worse.</p><p>Tony had it far better. Every inch he lowered himself would earn him another gasp, or groan, or the bite of nails into reddened skin. He could feel hot, panting breaths washing over his collarbone, but he didn’t dare break his concentration to look, knowing the sight of Tony so disarmed would be too much.</p><p>Eventually, the backs of his thighs came to rest in Tony’s lap, and he breathed a sigh of relief. Guino closed his eyes, lashes clumping with unshed tears, as he let himself get used to the pain. At least the lube Tony had used was helping take the edge off. </p><p>“Oh, <em> babe.” </em>With that hot mouth still pressed to his shoulder, Tony’s words vibrated through him like tremors of an earthquake. “You’re so, so--” Whatever word he’d been looking for, it was cut off by another moan. </p><p>Guino couldn’t agree more.</p><p>Feeling feverish and shaky, he craned his neck to peer down between their bodies. Sure enough, a hot wave of embarrassment struck him as he realized just how hard he was: drooling all over his bare legs and Tony’s rumpled shirttails, the head of his cock flushed bright red. What was left of the pain had become a dull ache that only added to the lust filling his head like smoke, like syrup, like the finest honey.</p><p>All too quickly, inaction became unbearable. His insides were on <em> fire. </em>“Tony,” he gasped, “I gotta-- gotta move. But I--” He tried lifting himself with his legs, but only managed a few inches before his muscles gave out and he sat down again, hard. The sudden hot spike of pleasure that followed had both of them crying out, and Tony’s hands tightening their vice grip on his thighs until it felt like his very bones were creaking under the pressure.</p><p>“I got you,” Tony panted, like he’d had the wind knocked right out of him, “I got you.” </p><p>With only the most minimal of help from Guino's already sore body, Tony picked him up. Not that he was light-- pressed together like they were, he could feel the way those muscles were straining to hold him in their pleasure-weak state. But Tony was certainly, ah, motivated. And that did wonders.</p><p>Guino had just enough time to send up a silent prayer for that willpower before Tony relaxed his grip.</p><p>The feeling that lanced through him nearly knocked his soul right out of his mortal body. His mouth opened around something wordless, soundless, but before it could climb its way out of his throat Tony was lifting him again, and bringing him down, again, again, again. It felt like he was being split open. Whatever sweet spot inside him they’d managed to nick on that first thrust was struck with an accuracy bordering on cruelty. Especially when Tony spread his legs, planted his feet, and bucked up into each downstroke, skin hitting skin with a harsh <em> slap.  </em></p><p>Guino swore, aiming for one thing and getting something else entirely, Italian syllables falling from his lips like broken china. He dug his nails into Tony’s shoulder blade, his nape, and pressed a kiss imploringly to that X-shaped scar.</p><p><em>“Bello mio,” </em>Tony crooned at him, out of breath but no less charming, “unh, it’s-- a-<em>ah,</em> <em>che buono, </em>n-no?”</p><p>It was hard to reply with anything other than the sound of a wounded animal, high and reedy in his throat, a noise that he knew he would be absolutely mortified by once this was over. And that was going to be soon: their rhythm was starting to falter as Tony exhausted himself, hands losing their grip on sweat-slicked skin. The irregular beat made it even harder to anticipate each thrust. Guino could feel the heat in his stomach coiling tight as a nest of vipers.</p><p>On the next stroke, Tony just grabbed him by the waist and held him down. Grinding mindlessly into the cradle of those hips, Guino nearly overbalanced until a palm came up to rest at the small of his back and keep him upright. Eyes wide in shock, heart beating hard in his chest, he could only watch as Tony’s other hand reached between them and wrapped almost carefully around his cock.</p><p>Everything went perfectly, utterly blank. Guino’s eyes fluttered shut on impulse as he came, head tipped back and thighs twitching. Tony was quick to follow, based on the white-hot heat that filled him seconds later; the thought was enough that it made his cock twitch one more time in earnest-- if misplaced-- interest.</p><p>Still dazed, Guino allowed himself to be pulled forward into an awkward hug, Tony’s face pressed into the crook of his neck. He tilted his own head just enough to bury his nose in his friend’s dark hair. After all that noise and feeling, it was strange to hear only the harsh rasp of their lungs filling the silence. </p><p>Luckily, Tony didn’t let that go on for long. “I think,” he panted out, “that ah, maybe them tools were a good investment after all.”</p><p>“Oh, do you?” It was hard to sound smug when it felt like you were breathing out of a straw.</p><p>“Yeah. And also, uh. Maybe we oughta invest more in the dry cleaners, too.”</p><p>Jesus, even laughing hurt right now. How is it that his <em> guts </em> were aching? “Or <em> may</em>be,” he intoned, “we oughta actually take our clothes off when we fuck.”</p><p>“Hmm. Good point.” Tony squeezed him-- but gently this time. Gently enough that Guino felt his heart flutter. </p><p>“‘Course it is. Though--” Both of them winced in unison as Tony shifted his weight ever so slightly, muscles aching in protest. Seemed that everyone was equally sore after that undertaking. “Hey, hey!” Guino tapped one broad shoulder in protest and got a disappointed huff for his trouble. “C’mon, give it another few.”</p><p>“Alright, alright. We gotta get up at <em> some </em>point, y’know.”</p><p>“And we will. What, you think I can just stand right up after somethin’ like that?” It was only half a joke, honestly; his whole body was about as limp as a wet rag. </p><p>He felt more than heard Tony’s laugh, muffled as it was against his throat. “Then I’ll carry you,” his friend replied.</p><p>Tony Camonte wasn’t often romantic. But that was close enough that it got Guino smiling, chest light even as his limbs felt leaden. Close enough that he could call this venture a success. Close enough that, once they finally <em> did </em>begin to move again, he didn’t at all mind the ache in his bones.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Once again, whoever read this........ I care you. :'^)</p></blockquote></div></div>
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